Something has been nudging me to dust of the old blog. So, after a two year hiatus from blogging about our lives, I suppose I'm back. Knowing me, it may not continue past the summer. It may not even continue past today.
Those of you expecting a light post with a family update or something equally flowery should turn back now. I feel compelled to write for therapy tonight and it likely won't be pretty. But, my goal this year is to Be Authentic and Honest (with capital letters to show you just how much I mean business about that). There are so many things I want to say, that I'm not sure I can even make sense.
Today I was just going about life, having one of those days where nothing really goes right, but nothing goes majorly wrong either. Just hard, but not bad. I sat at Easton's T-ball game trying to enjoy myself, but I found myself being completely and totally annoyed by the other parents. I sat there thinking awful things about complete strangers. I was completely overcome with anger for no apparent reason.
This happens a lot lately. A lot. More than I should admit. You should all say a prayer for my husband, because he is the one I usually unload my wagon of crazy on.
I've been especially angry the last few months. In the weeks and months after my miscarriage, the anger in my heart grew intensely and shaped me into a person I hardly know anymore. I have been especially angry with Heavenly Father. I completely shut Him out and turned my back on the gospel. I was not interested in a Father who instilled a desire in me for a child, blessed me with pregnancy, and then pulled the rug out from under me. I let the trial drown me. I let my grief overwhelm me.
I felt bitter as I watched women around me enjoy pregnancy and snuggle cozy newborns. Every pregnancy announcement on Facebook was a fresh hell and a new wave of anger. Every month when I wasn't pregnant again, I wanted to scream and pull my hair out. My body was betraying me (Isn't this what my body was built to do?!). My God was playing a cruel joke. SO. MUCH. ANGER.
It's ironic, really.
The day we found out that we had lost the pregnancy and in the days that followed, I remember knowing so clearly that my Father in Heaven was aware of me and knew me personally. I knew it more clearly than I have ever known anything. He prepared me all those months for this trial. He tried so hard to make it easier. I know that. I never forgot that feeling even in all my anger.
So, how did that knowing turn in to such intense, burning anger?
I forgot that misery loves company. And who is the most miserable being? Satan. I let him drag me down, down, down.
Recently, I decided to reverse the cards. I felt such an emptiness in my life, a loneliness. I took my time about it, to be sure. I'm nothing if I'm not stubborn. But once I began to soften my heart, I noticed the things the Lord had continued to bless me with despite my anger. I'm working on it. I really, really am. I don't want to be angry any more.
Obviously, I still have a long way to go. I still feel angry. I still want to throw myself out the window when someone announces a pregnancy. I will probably think about that baby every day forever. Maybe one day I'll understand the trial and won't feel angry. I'm certain that someday my chest won't feel like breaking open when I think about the baby. I'll lose count of how many weeks it's been since my due date passed me by (10). I think it's okay to go into the cave every now and then and feel the weight of sadness, but it's time to do it less.